Wings of the Condor

There comes a breaking
Sometimes
That cracks open
My soul
Laying me exposed
And bare
Before mortal eyes.

I resist the swimming
Within my skull
As the universe collapses
Falling
With devastating consequence
Demanding I answer
The shame
Of it all.

I cry for mercy
For clarity
In the fog
For a light
In the darkness.

I submit
To the pain
Within the growing
Numbness
I yield
To the vast
Emptiness
Spreading like the wings
Of the condor.

Then comes
The breaking.
The shock
Pressing like weights
From the great void
The breaking
That suggests
Seduces
Insinuates
Then demands
The price
Be fully reconciled
And I become
Carrion
To the bird of prey.

The Night of Snows

All is silent
In the night of snows
Hushed
As a bride is hushed
In the moment
Before intimacy
As a groom is hushed
At the consummation.

All is silent
In the night of snows
Still
As a mother is still
With her child
At her breast
As a child is still
At her mother’s cooing.

All is silent
In the night of snows
Wearied
As a man is wearied
At the close of day
As the day is wearied
When the sun falls
Below a horizon of snows.

All is silent
In the night of snows
Sleeping
As the earth sleeps
Blanketed beneath billowing skies
As the sky sleeps
In the hand of God
Silent
In the night of snows.

From Beyond the Footlights

These years later
My memory drapes you
The way your cotton gown
Once draped
Your enticing young body.

Every nuance of your frame
Was suggested
Against the summer fabric.
It stirred against you
With the lightest
Breath of sky
And I eagerly strained
To see what my eyes
Were always privileged to view
Within
And without the fabric.

Now you have given me
The privilege of memory.

You danced for me
Lover.
Every step you took
Was a ballet
Every turn
A pirouette.

When you stooped
It was as though
You were taking applause
From an audience of one
And the roses I threw
Were the kisses I gave.

I fear there is no return engagement.
I don’t even have a play bill
A signed memento
Or silken kerchief.

Ah, but I have your memory
Dear girl.
And it drapes you well.

Perhaps somewhere
You hear
Even faintly
A cheer
From beyond the footlights.

I hope it pleases you still.

Fragile Thing

Little bird
Fragile thing
How could you know?

Beneath
Your feathered breast
I feel your pulse
Of bright blood
Move along
Complicated tributaries
But all you know
Is sky.

How is this possible?

Fragile thing
Delicate creature
Your puff of breath
Is nearly nothing
Against my skin
So small are you.

But you have seen the world
From heights
I cannot conceive.
You smell morning
You hear the rush of dawn
You spread your honey wings
And without thought
Step onto thin air.

You are such a fragile thing
Impossibly small
Yet with hollow bones
And fluff of feathers
You launch into sunrise
Forsake this world
Breathe the vapor
Of clouds
And with tender wings
And cleanliness of being
You fly!
You fly!

And you brush
The face of God

The Drums

Tonight the drums
Throb
And where do I go
To evade the percussion?

I plug my ears
With prayer.
I stop my ears
With the recollection
Of what she’d said.

Learn
She said.
Learn to be alone.

Learn
She said.
Learn to be alone
She said
She said
Learn.

The drums never stop.

Outside my room
The dark
Cormorant sea
Beats the coast
And I think
How lonely
I am
How lonely
Is the rhythm
The perpetual rhythm
Of isolation.

The Pursuit

I chase the black hills
Of memory
On a horse with steel shoes
Sparking stone like flint
Seeking the unsearchable.

The wind squawks like
A bird of prey
Making smooth these
Ragged stones.

With heavy eyelids
The sky is ready to weep
Lightening charging the air
Ready to slash
Like sabers
Like the teeth of God.

Hers was the kiss
The ghost of a kiss
The spur to the withers
Of my horse
The knife in my ribs
The slice
Between flesh and soul.

I will not find her here.
She is past knowing.
But that means nothing
To the pursuit
To the wild
Endless chase
From these hills
Onto the high desert
To the sea.

The Canals of Mars

My warm blood ran
Just below her hand
Through tributaries
Of blue
Like highways
On maps.

I believe
She warmed my blood
Which otherwise
Would be like
The canals of Mars
Frozen
Dead
Meaningless.

I wonder
What she thought?
Did she understand
My blood
Was the complex stew
Of life
That fed my heart
Enlivened my organs
Warmed my skin
Gave me sight
Gave me sense?

Did she know
How vital
Was her touch?

Did she know
Without her hand
I would be a corpse
Without purpose
Without meaning?

Like I am now.

All I Required

I loved the simple
Curve of her hips
Under my hand
The grace
In which she moved
Sometimes urgently
With muscles taut
And other times
With the subtlety
Of an animal
Wary
But soft
Deftly
But with cunning.

Mine was the lightest
Of touch
The pads of my fingertips
Just engaging her skin
Barely touching her body.

Do not misunderstand.
I was not always prodding her
To submit
Or even engage my desire.
Often, all I required
Was the knowledge
I may touch her
In ways others could not.
It was unspoken
But the knowledge was understood.
I was special to her.
Special enough
That all five fingers
Of my left hand
Rested like a bird on a limb
Casually
With welcome
And could remain just above her hip
Until the sky called me away
Until her hips called me home
Again.

The Night Smell

What is that sweet
Night smell?
That midnight perfume
That rises from both lakes
And lanes?
That filters through
Window panes
And concrete walls?

It streams from farmland
And metropolis.
It rises to the stratosphere
And hovers at street level.

I drank this aroma
As an infant
At my mother’s breast.

This sweet scent issues
From shuttered depots
And all night eateries
From the back seats
Of taxies
And lingers beneath
Street lamps.

This sweet night smell
Wafts from dark fields
And breeze-rippled seas.
It moves on bird wing
And sleeps upon the dewy blade.

What is this night smell
That seems a blend
Of peace and hope?

This sweet night smell
Must be the aroma
Of life.
I cannot fix its origin
But this I know…
It rises from everything.

So Much to Fear

I was five years old
And clung to my mother’s hand
Like a wounded soldier
Clutches his crucifix.

My world was massive
And frightening.

In kindergarten
They taught me
When I saw the atomic flash
I must
Drop and Cover.

At the crossing I was to
Stop, Look and Listen.

At the street corner
I must
Look Both Ways.

Smokey said
Only I Can Prevent
Forest Fires.

Were I to catch fire
I was to
Stop, Drop and Roll.

I was warned to
Never take candy from a stranger.

From the pulpit
The preacher shouted I was
Going to hell.

President Roosevelt was wrong
In saying
All I have to fear is fear itself.

President Kennedy warned
I lived beneath a
Nuclear Sword of Damocles.

So much for a five year old to fear!
Surely the world would become more friendly
As I aged.

Not so.

All the old fears remained
And I was to learn new ones.

Just because she says
She loves me
Does not mean she does.

Just because I have a job
Does not mean
I may keep it.

Just because I do not smoke
Does not mean
I do not have cancer.

Just because I seem safe
Does not mean
I am.

Just because the dog wags its tail
Does not mean
It does not bite.

Just because I obey the traffic laws
Does not mean
A drunk driver will not kill me.

So why do they laugh when I say
I want my mommy?